


Bad At Keeping Secrets

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Series: Hot For Teacher [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Disappointed Steve Rogers, I Have No Idea How To Tag This Thing, Language, M/M, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Open Relationships, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Protective Tony Stark, Secret Relationship, The Avengers Are Good Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 01:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20219317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Peter’s brain grinds to a halt, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s staring at Flash like a dumb ass, that his mouth is hanging open, but beyond that, he can’t process what is happening.





	Bad At Keeping Secrets

Two weeks after that frankly astounding night with Peter (and Beck, ugh), Tony meets up with his friends slash colleagues for their monthly fancy lunch date. It’s a long-standing tradition that started shortly after Tony started teaching, with Steve and Natasha strong-arming him into it not very subtly, and even though they don’t socialise much outside of school, this has become one of his favourite evenings if he’s honest with himself.

During those last two weeks, he’s kept up a steady text conversation with Peter, and that’s another thing he needs to be honest with himself about – the kid is good for him. Sure, there are some rather R rated exchanges going on, and maybe even a few saucy pictures, but… he just genuinely enjoys talking with him. Peter is a fount of geeky knowledge Tony would be hard-pressed to find in anybody his own age, and when they got into a heated debate about the original version of Star Wars versus the special edition, Tony might have fallen more than a little in love with the boy.

They’ve just finished making their way through some overpriced sushi and are now all nursing warm sake because they’re all adults and day drinking is a perfectly reasonable thing to do, thank you very much, and a mischievous glint has appeared in Natasha’s eyes.

“I heard a rumour,” she says into the lull in conversation, and even though Actual Good Boy Steve Rogers rolls his eyes, Tony doesn’t miss the way the man leans forward ever so slightly, attentive.

“About what,” Sam asks, the grin on his face now almost rivalling Nat’s.

“About our good friend Quentin Beck,” she says, and it’s like somebody has poured a bucket of ice water over Tony’s head.

“Who gives half a fuck about what Beck does in his free time,” he says, rolls his eyes for good measure. Natasha’s grin only widens.

“I’ve heard he hooked up with one of the kids who just graduated.”

Sam cackles at that, earning himself a very disapproving look from Steve. “Well, that was quick,” Steve says, every inch of him showing his disappointment. Whether it’s with the kid in question or Quentin, Tony isn’t sure.

Tony shifts in his seat, uncomfortable and hoping it doesn’t show on his face too much. Sam is the one who asks the question, because of course it’s Sam. “Any candidates?”

Natasha shrugs one elegant shoulder, and her eyes flick to Tony for half a second when she says, “Apparently it’s Peter Parker.”

Scratch that, not a bucket over his head, somebody poured that ice water straight down his gullet. Then again, the danger he’s in of being exposed is almost worth it when he sees the expression on Steve’s face, who looks both appalled and indignant. 

“That can’t be, Peter wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Why not,” Sam asks. “I mean, Beck isn’t exactly ugly, and he could sweet-talk his way into a nun’s panties.” He shrugs. “Think of the man what you will but he has a talent.”

“A very _inappropriate_ talent,” Steve says with a glower.

Natasha is sliding a finger around the rim of her sake cup, smiling to herself. “You went out with the kid’s aunt, didn’t you, Tony,” she asks, and he stiffens. That tone of voice is far too knowing for his taste.

“Yup, back in the day. Why?”

She shrugs again. “Just thought you might have some insight.”

“I didn’t speak to the kid for nearly three years, and then barely did while he was in my class,” and shit, he doesn’t like the twinkle in her eyes _at all_, “so how the fuck would I know if he is stupid enough to let himself get railed by a teacher?”

Mercifully, Sam changes the subject then, which is a small miracle in itself, and a little while later they all file out of the restaurant. Goodbyes are exchanged, and Tony has barely ducked out from Steve’s hug and told him to say hi to his boyfriend before he’s pulling out his phone.

He’s typing out a text to Peter, fingers flying over his phone, and Natasha slaps a hand on his shoulder as she walks past him. He pulls the phone against his chest with what he knows is a deer-in-the-headlights look, and he’s sure she knows who he’s texting anyway.

“Have a good weekend, Tony,” she says, sugary sweet, and Tony’s stomach cramps.

“Yeah, you too,” and does he sound as guilty to her as he thinks he does?

As soon as she’s out of sight, he goes back to his phone, and if his message sounds a little frantic, well.

_Peter, call me. We need to talk ASAP. WE HAVE A PROBLEM! -T_

*~*~*~*~*~*

This was supposed to be a nice, quiet afternoon out with MJ, just some catching up after she had been dragged out to see her grandparents for almost a week, but of course Peter’s life doesn’t work that way. MJ is off to the toilet while he stands in line for their coffees, and apparently the powers that govern the universe think the middle of a Starbucks is the perfect place for what happens next to occur.

“Yo, Penis!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” Peter tries to duck behind the person in front of him, but of course it’s too late. Flash must have spotted him as soon as he walked into the Starbucks, and hiding is futile, something that becomes all the more apparent as Flash makes his way over to him, a manic gleam in his eyes. Peter plasters the fakest smile he can muster on his face. “Flash, how unnecessary to see you.”

Flash ignores the jibe. “Is it true,” he asks instead, “are you banging Mister Beck?”

Peter’s brain grinds to a halt, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s staring at Flash like a dumb ass, that his mouth is hanging open, but beyond that, he can’t process what is happening. It’s not until Flash starts grinning like Christmas just came early that he snaps back to the present.

“You totally are, man! I thought for sure that Jay was lying!”

“Who’s Jay?” _Smart, Peter, real smart._

Flash waves him off. “He was in Beck’s class with you. How long has this been going on?”

“You being a colossal dick? I’d say since kindergarten.” MJ is wearing her look of purest disdain as she elbows her way past Flash, turning her back on him as she not so subtly places herself between him and Peter. Flash makes a noise of protest, but MJ shoots him a look over her shoulder. “Scram, Thompson. You’re making our IQs drop.”

For a second Flash looks like he wants to say more, but then he just smiles in a way that makes Peter’s stomach turn. “Sure, Jones, you guys have a nice day.” And he turns and walks back over to what Peter assumes is his girlfriend.

“Well, that was nauseating,” MJ drawls as the line moves forward, and Peter sighs.

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

Peter thinks about lying, but what would be the point. “He asked about Quentin. And me.”

She gapes at him for a moment before she looks over at where Flash is now typing away on his phone. “How the hell would he know anything about that?”

“I don’t know! I mean, we’ve stopped being so careful when we’re out doing stuff,” and here MJ raises her eyebrows in a way that makes his face heat up, “like, couple stuff, having dinner and shit.” He clears his throat and tries to avoid the knowing look in her eyes. “But I doubt anybody we know saw us.” He shrugs, tries to be blasé about it all. “And anyway, who cares? I’m done with school, so it’s all good.”

His phone chimes in his pocket, and he pulls it out as MJ winds her arm around his shoulder. “Flash can go eat a bag of dicks. Who you’re bumping uglies with is none of his business.”

Peter snorts, grateful once again that he’s friends with MJ, seeing how she’s usually the more level-headed of them. Smiling, he unlocks his phone, his heart jumping pleasantly when he sees that Tony sent him a text, but then he reads it and said heart drops rather quickly into the vicinity of his stomach. “Uh, could you order for me? I gotta call someone.”

The expression on MJ’s face is probably ‘concern’ as she nods but he has no capacity for trying to analyse anything around him, and he ignores the weird grin on Flash’s face as he hurries out of the shop, phone pressed to his ear. Tony picks up after the second ring, and Peter feels like a live wire. “Hey, it’s me, you said to call you?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Quentin,” Stephen says, with a smile that never even attempts to reach his eyes. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

“No problem.” Quentin sits in one of the chairs usually reserved for students, watches with amusement as Strange steeples his fingers in front of him. He wonders how many poor kids the man has scared shitless with that move. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I’ve been informed that you have apparently entered into a relationship with a former student of yours. Is that correct?”

_Shit_. Instead of storming out because really, this is none of the man’s fucking business, he takes a breath and nods. “It’s true, yes.”

Stephen hums in acknowledgement, leans back in his chair a little. Quentin has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The whole act, the whole _office_, is so ridiculous, with the enormous desk and expensive leather chair, but he’s also sure that it works on far too many people. _It’s all about appearances_, he thinks. “If I asked you when this… relationship began, what would your answer be?”

“My answer, Stephen, would be that it’s none of your business. The kid’s an adult,” and he winces internally at how stupid that sounds, “and it never affected his grades or how I treated him in my class.”

“So you did start seeing him while he was still a student,” Stephen says quietly, and Quentin stiffens.

“As I said, it had no effect on how I treated him at school.”

Strange looks at him in silence for a long while, and Quentin absolutely refuses to fidget or show his discomfort in any way. Finally, the other man sighs. “I don’t think I have to tell you how utterly unprofessional this is.”

“You really don’t,” he says flatly, and Stephen gives him a look.

“I hope you understand that if anything of the sort should occur again, I will be forced to terminate your employment with us. We have standards to uphold, Quentin.”

He’s on his way to his car, fuming because really, who the fuck does Strange think he is, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it free and takes the call without checking who it is, and if he’s honest he really wants to yell at someone right now so he hopes it’s a telemarketer or something equally annoying. “What?!”

“Um,” and shit, of course. “It’s me,” Peter says, confusion evident in his voice. “Is now a bad time?”

Quentin stops, rubs a hand over his face. “No, honey, I’m sorry, I just… I had an unpleasant conversation just now. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Peter is quiet for a long moment, before he says, “Okay. So,” and he takes a deep breath, “apparently people know about us now. Like, a lot of them?” His voice turns a little squeaky at the end, and Quentin’s lip twitches.

“Are you… worried about that, Peter?” Because he sounds worried, and that’s really the only thing about this whole mess that worries Quentin. He doesn’t give two shits about what anybody thinks about them, but if Peter has a problem with that, well.

“Not worried, really, just...” He sighs, and Quentin can hear a door being unlocked and then thrown shut, the shuffle of fabric in the background as Peter sheds clothes. Probably his jacket. “It’s a lot. I didn’t think it would hit me this hard. Flash ambushed me in a Starbucks and asked if we were fucking.”

“_What_?” 

“It’s not a big deal, really, MJ was there and basically told him he lowers everyone’s IQ around him, so… He didn’t like that too much.”

Quentin doesn’t know who this Flash kid is, but he can think of at least five painful ways of making him disappear by midnight. “He had no right to do that, Peter.”

“I know. It’s okay. I just… Just wanted to let you know.”

“That’s very good of you, darling.” Peter hums, and Quentin fishes his keys out of his pocket. “Want me to come pick you up?”

“Can’t tonight, sorry,” and he does sound genuinely sorry, “I promised MJ a game night.”

Quentin chuckles. “Well, then don’t let me stand in the way of your geekery.”

“Hmm. See you tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan. Have a good night, Pete.”

“You too,” he says, so sweetly, and then, just before the line disconnects, “love you!”

Quentin stands there in the parking lot, staring at the now dark again phone screen in his hand, utterly incapable of describing the emotion currently rolling through his gut.

“Fuck.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

MJ stares at Peter, who sits on the couch next to her, his eyes wide as saucers and one hand now clapped over his mouth, and finally she says, “I take it you’ve never told him before.”

Peter shakes his head, panic in his eyes, and he tosses the phone on the couch table as though it burns him to hold it even a second longer. “Why the fuck did I say that?!”

She gives him a look. “Because it’s true, you dumb ass.”

“What about-” His mouth snaps shut, his eyes widening even more, and then there is a hot flush in his cheeks as he looks away from her hurriedly.

MJ’s eyes narrow. “What about what?”

“Nothing,” he squeaks, and MJ rolls her eyes. Why is this kid such a bad liar? You’d think he would have picked up some of her skills over the years, but no.

“Peter,” she says, in her best mom voice, and he actually fucking _whimpers_.

“I can’t tell you!” He jumps to his feet, all restless energy and anxiety all of a sudden, and MJ watches as he paces back and forth across the room. “Oh fuck, I’m so dead.”

“Because you told your boyfriend of two years that you love him?” Okay, she’s properly confused now. What the hell is going on?

“No, not that, I...” Peter puts his hands into his hair, pulls, obviously frustrated. Then he stills, lets go of his hair and looks straight at her. He looks a little mad, his hair now standing up every which way and his eyes wide and pleading. “Nobody can know, MJ, absolutely _no one_.”

“Uh. Okay?”

He rubs both hands over his face, before he blurts, “I’m kind of seeing someone else also.”

There is dead silence for a good ten seconds, before MJ hears herself say, in a voice entirely devoid of inflection, “What.”

It’s like a dam has broken, and the whole sordid tale comes spilling out of Peter. MJ just sits there and listens, until he takes a deep breath, and she holds up her hand. Peter falls silent immediately.

“So you’re telling me you managed to bag the two teachers half our college has been salivating over, and apparently have amazing sex with them. And this is a problem because?”

Peter stares at her, disbelief clear on his face. “I can’t be in love with two people, MJ! That’s not how this works.”

MJ groans. “God damn it, Parker, this is the 21st century. Polyamory is a thing?”

And fuck, the look of confusion on his face shouldn’t be this adorable. “But...”

“Look, I have no idea if Quentin or Mister Stark are candidates for this sort of relationship, but this is actually something people do.”

“You mean I could...” She can almost see the cogs turning in his head, and then his face brightens. “I could be with _both_ of them?”

_Too precious for this world_, she thinks. “If they agree, sure. It’s a lot of work and there needs to be constant communication and clear rules, but other than that, why not?” Peter flops down on the couch again and stares at the ceiling, and he looks like somebody just told him that Santa is real. “Listen,” she says after a moment, “whatever is going on there, there’s really only one thing you can do here, and that is talk to them. Until then you’re just gonna drive yourself crazy worrying about this.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Sugar pie, I’m always right. That’s why we’re friends.” She bumps her shoulder against his, grins. “What about that game night then, huh? You promised me payback for the last time I beat your ass in Smash Bros.”

“Ha! Revenge shall be mine,” Peter yells as he hops to his feet to set up the Switch, and MJ smiles.

“In your dreams, lover boy.”


End file.
